O Captain My Captain
by tee.tee.why.el
Summary: "Just… just tell me why, Doctor," he murmured as he stumbled backwards. "Why didn't you stop it? Why?" The Doctor swallowed and finally lifted his chin to look Jack in the eye. "Because I can't save them all, Jack."


_Author's note: I recently finished the third season of Torchwood, and it made me start thinking about the parallels between Jack and the Doctor... and that made me want to experiment with the idea of them reconnecting in the Doctor's eleventh regeneration._

_Set in the Torchwood verse in the six-month gap in the last episode of season three, and the Whoverse in between 'Cold Blood' and 'Vincent and the Doctor.'_

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**O Captain — My Captain**

"Right! Well, that was fun, wasn't it? Oh, you don't have to say it, Cafola VI is always fun, of course you enjoyed it! Still can't believe they hadn't forgotten last time, but it really wasn't my fault, you know—and honestly, she wasn't my type in the _slightest_. Not my fault the Princess mistook a kiss of the hand as a marriage proposal, eh?" The Doctor turned to flash a cheeky grin and a wink in Amy's direction before spinning back around to pull down on an enormous lever.

Amy leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms across her chest, chuckling, as the Doctor continued to whirl about the TARDIS console. "Oh _no_, Doctor," she teased. "Not your fault in the _slightest_."

The Doctor frowned over his shoulder. "Oh, not you too, Pond," he complained as his fingers entered their next coordinates into the console's typewriter. He turned his eyes back to face front. "'Course, the Cafoolians had a right to be angry with me, having disappointed their Princess and all that, but you weren't even there when it happened," he continued petulantly. "What could _you _have to complain about?"

Amy quirked a brow and strode over to stand beside the Doctor. "Well," she crossed her arms again, "I _was_ promised a wonderful view, you know. _'Oh, Cafola VI has the best sunsets and the best seafood,'_ he says—"

"Oi!" the Doctor paused his work to glare at her. "I _gave_ you a beautiful view—!"

"—from behind the bars of a prison cell," Amy finished dryly, her eyebrow still quirked. The Doctor deflated a bit at that.

"Yes. Well. Like I said—not my fault." Annoyed, he tweaked an orange button at his side and spun away from the redhead. "How was I to know they'd still be cross with me?" he murmured to himself. "…Cross with me. Everyone's always cross with me."

"What was that?" Amy asked him curiously as she came up from behind him. "What did you say?"

But he didn't answer her question. He never answered those kinds of questions. Instead, he just clapped his hands together and whirled around with a grin. "So, aren't you going to ask where we're going next, Amelia Pond?" The Doctor waggled his eyebrows.

There was a time when Amy would have protested the obvious avoidance of a topic that seemed to make the Doctor uncomfortable, but those days were gone; she'd long accepted that, more often than not, the Doctor seemed to have much more trouble answering questions than asking those of his own. So she just laughed, and humored him. "Okay Doctor, where are we— "

"The Eye of Orion!" he interrupted her happily, sheer excitement pushing him to his tiptoes. "It's one of the most tranquil places in the universe, you know," he explained as he pulled the final red lever, and he and Amy were pushed to the floor as the TARDIS took off.

"Right, of course I know that!" Amy shouted above the noise as the ship bumpily _vworped_ through time and space, "Doesn't _everybody_?"

* * *

"Doctor, you _really _need to work on your landings," Amy said for the fifty-fifth time as she slowly stood up from the TARDIS floor for the fifty-fifth time. Common sense would have dictated that the Doctor would get better at flying and landing the ship with time… but common sense had never really had much on the Doctor.

"Oh hush, Pond." The Doctor was already up and checking the scanner for, Amy presumed, some sort of readings on the planet's atmosphere or something. "…That's odd."

"Sorry, what's odd?" Amy moved to stand beside him. She paused. "…Is this the Eye of Orion?"

"No… can't be," the Doctor replied softly. He was unusually still, and his eyes were fixed on the screen above them.

"It looks very… well, it looks very _Earth-y_, Doctor. Are you sure you got our coordinates right this time?" she teased. "Because last time this happened, you _swore_ that we'd landed at Roxicariflilipalonius—"

"Raxacoricofallapatorius," he quietly corrected her.

"—Right, that place. You _swore_ we'd landed there when really, you'd just gone and landed us inside a portable toilet…"

"Meant to do that," he murmured absentmindedly. He brought his right hand up and tapped the screen of the scanner. "What are you doing now, old girl? Why are we here? This can't be right…" He took a step to the left, his hand now resting on the console, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. Amy watched him, completely bemused.

"…Doctor?" she asked after a few moments of silence. "Doctor, shall we… shall we go, then?"

His eyes snapped open. "Yes! Yes, of course we shall, Pond, of course we shall!" And her mad man was off again, bounding down the steps and towards the doors, all signs of confusion or anxiety totally gone. Amy just shook her head and followed, albeit not quite as bouncily.

The Doctor's hand was resting on the door, and his abrupt halt almost forced Amy to run right into him. "Amelia Pond," he grinned, "Welcome to India 2009!" And with a flourish, he pushed open the doors.

* * *

India at night was beautiful, which came as no surprise to the Doctor. He had been here before, of course – many times, in fact. So when the TARDIS had landed them in India in Amy's time, he had been confused, but not disappointed. He was never disappointed with the TARDIS, not really. But he was getting the sense that Amy was. Just a bit.

Because really, it was two o'clock in the morning so not many people were out yet, especially not any of the street vendors, so there wasn't all that much to do besides walk around. And after having done so much running at Calofa VI, all the walking was an unusual change of pace. He stopped to chuckle at that – change of pace, running to walking… it was funny! But he stopped laughing when he felt Amy's eyes on him; he doubted she'd find it _that _funny. So he resumed walking beside Amy quietly, worried that she was disappointed in him. After all, he _had_ promised her the Eye of Orion, one of the most tranquil and beautiful places in the universe, but instead they'd just landed in _India_, and of course there was nothing _wrong_ with India – he loved India! – but it was no Eye of Orion. And if there was one thing the Doctor couldn't stand, it was disappointing a friend.

He snuck a glance at Amy. She was absentmindedly kicking a pebble as they walked down the deserted streets, her eyes flicking from the pebble to the storefront windows. _She's probably wishing we were back on the TARDIS and off to some great adventure,_ he worried, running a hand through his hair. He swallowed.

"Oh, would you look at that!" He made a show of checking the watch on his wrist. "Well, looks like our time in India is just about done. What do you say we just head back to the TARDIS, eh?" With a smile, he offered Amy his arm, which she took with a smile. _Too much of a smile_, he thought sadly. _She can't wait to get out of here. Must be so boring, next to Cafola VI._

The duo turned the corner and began back for the TARDIS, arm in arm.

"Fancy a coffee?" the Doctor asked Amy as they passed a small café. It was a wonder it was open at such a late hour, but all the same, there it stood. Through the window, he could see a few exhausted and sad-looking patrons sitting at the tables inside.

"Nah," Amy shrugged. "I'm not all that tired, really."

"Right, right. Okay. Well, thought I'd ask." It had more been for small-talk, and now that that had been shot down, the Doctor couldn't really think of much else to say, so he did what he always did: he started to talk. "Can't blame you, of course; there's no telling what could be in the brew of a little shop in India, and who knows, maybe it's the worst coffee on the planet! Well, or it could be the _best_ coffee on the planet, but best not risk it, eh? Especially if you're not thirsty or not tired or don't fancy a cup of coffee, because you've nothing to _lose_, so it'd be quite impractical if you think about it…" Amy laughed and the Doctor grinned. She didn't _look_ like she was disappointed with him, and the thought of that cheered him right up. By the time they'd reached the TARDIS, both of them were in quite high spirits.

"After you, Miss Amelia Pond." The Doctor bowed with a flourish, and Amy pretended to curtsy.

"Why thank you, Mr. Doctor, sir," she responded with a cheeky grin. "Don't mind if I do!"

The Doctor followed right behind her. As he turned around to shut the door, the wind shifted, and with it carried a faint but distinguishable bellow:

"_DOCTOR!"_

The Doctor froze in the doorway, his eyes searching for the source of the shout. Amy, already standing by the console, watched him with confusion.

"Doctor? Doctor, what are you doing?"

"Someone's here," he replied, his face wrinkling in concentration. "Someone's here and I hear them—well, they probably heard me, actually. Someone's here and I hear them because they hear me, really—"

And there it was again, a bit louder this time: _"DOCTOR! DOCTOR, WAIT!"_

It sounded so familiar. In fact, the whole thing _felt_ so familiar – the Doctor was getting a serious case of déjà vu. It wasn't that he was in India, either; it was something about that voice. Something about that _voice _and the way it was getting louder as he got closer to the TARDIS…

And then the Doctor knew _exactly _who was coming.

Eyes wide, he slammed the doors shut and raced up the stairs to meet Amy at the console, already planning their next coordinates. Amy still looked confused.

"Doctor, what's going on?"

The shouting – or, rather, the shout_er_ – was getting closer and closer. He could hear him even through the walls of the TARDIS now.

"Doctor, can you hear that?"

"Yes, yes, Pond, I can hear that," he replied shortly, fingers flying across the typewriter. "And we've got to go. We've got to go _now._"

"But… why? If there's someone here who knows you and needs your help, aren't you supposed to stay and help them?" Amy crossed her arms, but the Doctor didn't even look her way.

"Under normal circumstances, yes. In fact, under any _other_ circumstances, _yes of course_. But not him. I can't help him."

"But why?" she asked again. The Doctor didn't answer her; he just kept working. "Doctor, _why_? _Why_ can't you help him?" Frustrated and furious, Amy grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "Doctor, answer me!" He stared at her. "You're supposed to be the good guy, Doctor. You're supposed to save people. You're supposed to save people, and if someone's calling your name it means they need saving. It means they need _you_ to save them. Now, tell me—_why won't you help him?"_

The Doctor slowly turned his head to stare at the hand holding him by the shoulder, and it was to that hand that he addressed his response. "I just _can't_. I don't expect you to understand." It was the truth, and he knew that it would make her angry, which it did.

"_What?"_ Amy shouted, eyes narrowed. She released his shoulder with a huff. "Oh, I think I understand perfectly well, Doctor; I think you're _scared_."

The Doctor turned his back to her and resumed the programming of their next coordinates. "Yes, well, maybe I am," he murmured. "Maybe I'm a bit… anxious."

Amy snorted, collapsing onto a nearby chair. "You're being _ridiculous_, that's what you're being. You're the _Doctor_. The Doctor can't be _anxious_."

"Oh Amy," he whispered as his forefinger hovered above the 'Enter' key. "Of _course _he—"

There was a knock on the door.

…Well, it was more of a banging.

"_DOCTOR! DOCTOR, OPEN THE DOOR!"_

Amy stared at the Doctor, her eyes accusing. "Well, aren't you going to answer it?"

"No, I don't think I will," he retorted, his finger still hovering over the final button. Just a more few inches and they'd be off, flying through all of time and space, away from Him. Just a few more inches, that was all. …Then why hadn't he done it already?

Amy watched his hesitation and huffed. "Well if you are not going to get the door, _I will_." She leapt from the chair and began marching towards the door, her flaming red hair swishing behind her.

"N—no, Pond, wait—" He started after her but it was too late; she'd gotten too much of a head start. Completely panicked, the Doctor spun in frantic circles, searching the control room for a good place to hide. Just in time, he dove behind the closest chair as he heard the creak of the opening door.

"_DOCTOR, OPEN THE— Oh. _Wow._ Why, _hello there_. And who might you be?"_

"Oi! No flirting." The Doctor couldn't help it; he'd _had_ to stand up. Force of habit.

"I was just saying hello," he replied as he always did. "Of course, you always did get jealous, didn't you?" And there was that cheeky grin again. Amy gaped, and the Doctor groaned and rubbed his eyes before tiredly waving his left hand in their direction.

"Amelia Pond, meet Captain Jack Harkness. Jack, Amelia."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Amelia Pond." Jack bowed and brought her hand to his lips, as he always did when the Doctor had seen him meet strangers. The Doctor watched as Amy's eyebrow quirked, and he knew she was flattered.

"Call me Amy," she replied, but her voice wasn't sharp, like it was whenever she corrected the Doctor. He groaned again.

"Oi, I said no flirting!" he repeated as he took the stairs down two at a time. He glared at them both. _"No. Flirting."_

"He always did get jealous," Jack whispered conspiratorially to Amy, and she laughed.

"Oh, I know he does—"

The last thing the Doctor saw before the world went black was Jack's incoming fist.

* * *

"Oi! What the _hell _was that for?" Amy shouted at him as she rushed to the Doctor's side.

"Had to," Jack replied tiredly. He sunk onto one of the stairs, his face in his hands. "I had to," he whispered again. "It was his fault."

"Sorry, _what?_" Amy glared at him. "_What_ did you say?" Jack didn't respond—there was no way he could explain.

"I… Look, I'm sorry," he finally said. "It was just something I had to do."

"Yeah?" Amy stood abruptly. "Well, _Captain Harkness_, here's something else you _'have to do'_: you're going to help me carry the Doctor up the stairs and to the console, got that?" She crossed her arms, and Jack couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yes ma'am!" He rose from the stairs and snapped a smart salute. "I'll grab his ankles and you'll grab his arms?" he suggested, not waiting for affirmation before grabbing said ankles. The two of them were easily able to make their way back up the shallow stairs, but Jack found himself yearning for the ramp that had been in the TARDIS the last time he'd been there.

By the time they'd worked the Doctor onto the beige chair, he was coming to. "Ow," he said, dazed. But then his eyes found Jack, and he raised an accusing finger. "You _punched_ me." He sounded shocked.

Jack just looked at him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The Doctor didn't wait for a response. "You _punched_ me!" he said again, beginning to sit up.

Jack sighed. "Doctor, do you know—"

"You… You _punched _me! …_Me!"_

Jack shut his eyes. "Yes, Doctor, I did. Would you like an apology?"

The Doctor sniffed, his arms crossed. "Yes, I think I would, Jack."

Jack's eyes flew open, furious. "Well, you're not getting one!" he exploded. His hands were balled up inside his pockets as he fought the urge to punch the Doctor again. "_Look_, Doctor. I'm glad to see you—I always am. But this time… this time you've let me down. So _no_, you're not getting a damn _apology_!" He bit back the rest of the words that were fighting to spill out of his mouth; the amount of effort required to contain his fury was exhausting. He was still glaring at the Doctor, who seemed to have deflated into the chair they'd set him on.

"Oh. I… I see," the Doctor murmured, his eyes focused on his trainers. When he didn't say anything more, Jack's temper flared again.

"Is that it, Doctor? _Is that it_? Is that all you have to say for yourself?" In two long strides, he was towering over the Doctor. "Doctor," he questioned darkly, "Do you know what year this is?"

"Yes," the Doctor whispered. "I'm afraid, Jack, that I do." He blearily shut his eyes. "And I am so, so sorry."

Jack laughed humorlessly, his hands now back in his pockets. "Oh you're _sorry_, are you? You're _sorry_ that you left us to deal with the 456 completely on our own? You're _sorry_ that the world – Earth, the planet you claim to care _so much about _– was prepared to sacrifice a _tenth_ of its children? You're _SORRY_ that I had to—" Jack choked back a sob and forced himself to go on. "You're _SORRY_ that I had to murder _my own grandson_ just so no other children would suffer?" Jack's vision blurred as tears flooded his eyes, and he angrily wiped them away. "And all you can say is that you're _SORRY_?"

Amy cleared her throat and straightened from her position against the railing. "Look, Captain Harkness," she began, crossing her arms. "I don't know who you are or what you've done, but… but you can't be right. Not about this. Not about the Doctor. The Doctor... The Doctor's not like that, Captain Jack. He's _good_. Even if all of what you say happened – not a word of which I believe, by the way – the Doctor would have _never_—"

"Amy." The Doctor's voice was quiet, but it still made Amy pause. She turned to face him, disbelief flooding her face.

"…Doctor…?"

"No, he's… he's right, Amy. Jack is right." He sighed. "About a month ago, this planet planned on giving ten percent of its children to the species they've dubbed 'the 456.' And, had they done so, the 456 would have used every single one of those children as…" The Doctor inhaled slowly; sadly. "…Well, as their own brand of heroin, essentially." When the Doctor opened his eyes, Jack saw that he was crying. "And I…" the Doctor continued forlornly, his hands kneading, "…I _knew_. I _knew_ it would happen – knew what _could_ happen – and I didn't stop it. I didn't stop it," he whispered. His head dropped to his chest. "I didn't stop it, and I am so, _so_ sorry, Jack. _I am so very sorry._"

Jack fought the urge to reach out and hug the Doctor. _He looks so broken._ "Just… just tell me why, Doctor," he murmured as he stumbled backwards a few steps. "Why didn't you stop it? _Why_?"

The Doctor swallowed and finally lifted his chin to look Jack in the eye. "Because I can't save them all, Jack," he whispered.

Jack blinked then began to splutter. "Wh—_what? _What do you mean? You're—you're the _Doctor_, of _course_ you can—" But even as he said it, Jack knew it wasn't true. Because history was littered with examples of when the Doctor had not, in fact, saved them all; times when things seemed to be going horribly wrong, and the Doctor hadn't magically appeared to save the day. Jack inhaled a shaky breath. "Okay. Okay, Doctor, okay. But I just… I just want an explanation. …Why didn't you save us _this_ time?" Jack shook his head. "You can't imagine the panic, the fear, the—"

"I didn't save you," the Doctor interrupted him softly, "Because I knew they had you, Jack."

He paused, then forced out a laugh. "_Excuse me_? Really, Doctor, that's not funny."

"I'm not joking, Jack." The Doctor abruptly stood from the chair and drew himself to his full height. "I knew that Earth had Torchwood – I knew that Earth had _you_, Jack – and I knew that you could save them."

Jack was having trouble breathing for the fury. "Wh—_WHAT?"_ he managed to choke out.

"And, that's my cue to leave," Amy muttered. Neither the Doctor nor Jack seemed to hear her, or the sound of her heels as they clicked off down an adjacent hallway.

Jack took a shaky step towards the Doctor. "You… you _knew_ the cost of saving the world's children, then?" he clarified softly.

The Doctor clasped his hands behind his back. "I did."

Jack turned away. "And you knew that I would be heartless enough to pay it?"

"No," the Doctor shook his head ever so slightly. "I knew that you would be wise enough to—"

"I can't believe this." Jack was furious. More than furious, he was absolutely _livid_. "You… you _knew_ that I would be forced to murder a _child_, and… and you did _nothing?_ GOD, Doctor, am I really worth so little to you, that you wouldn't even—"

"—No, Jack, listen—"

"No, Doctor, YOU LISTEN." He whirled back around to face the Doctor. "Now, I've waited for you a long time, Doctor, and I've done a lot since we last saw each other, much of which you wouldn't have approved of. But wherever I went and whatever I did, it was like you were there, Doctor. It was like you were there, inside my head. And even when I didn't listen to you, I knew what you would have wanted; I knew what you would have done. And that's what kept me sane through everything. Through assassinations and murders and every time I died – _you are what kept me sane_. And now—"

The Doctor tried to interrupt again. "No, Jack—"

"—and now," Jack continued, "as it turns out, I'm just the planet's second-best. When the Doctor doesn't want to get his hands dirty, just leave the work to Jack, eh? He'll fix it! He has no qualms about blood, is that right? Jack doesn't care about innocent blood or about right or wrong! Just leave it all to Jack, he can do it?" Tears were streaming down Jack's face but he refused to let them affect him; refused to let a single, solitary sob escape his throat. "…Even if it requires the sacrifice of his own grandson, Doctor?" he whispered. "Even then?"

"I'm sorry, Jack." The Doctor's eyes were shut. "I promise you—_that_, I didn't know. I knew the cost would be great and I knew that you would pay it, but I swear, I didn't know it'd be your grandson. In fact," he said, "to be honest… I didn't even know you _had_ a grandson."

"Yes, well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Doctor," Jack chuckled tiredly, collapsing onto the chair. The Doctor just smiled sadly, his back against the console.

After a few silent moments, he let out a small cough. "Thing is, Jack," he began, "You're not heartless." Jack snorted and started to interrupt, but the Doctor ignored him. "You're _not_, Jack. Without you, _countless _children would have been taken by the 456—you saved them _all_, Jack."

Jack snorted again. "Not all of them, Doctor. Not all of them." He swallowed and looked up to meet the Doctor's gaze. "Just… just tell me this, then. Was there any other way? Because every day I tell myself, _If the Doctor had been there, he could have saved Steven._ But… but is that true, Doctor? Could you have saved him?"

The Doctor sadly met Jack's gaze. "Yes." Jack's head fell, and he let out a strangled sob of pain. "But," the Doctor continued, "If I had… If I had, the rest of the children would have died." Jack sniffed. "I… I never could have done what you did, Jack. _Never._"

Jack lifted his gaze to glare at the Doctor. "If you're trying to make me feel better, Doctor—"

"No. But when you find yourself lying awake at night because when you close your eyes you see Steven staring back at you, I want you to _remember_, Jack. I want you to remember that you _saved_ every other child on the planet." The Doctor strode to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I want you to _remember_, Jack… and I want you to forgive yourself."

For a while, neither of them said anything as Jack's tears slowed to a gentle trickle. The Doctor's hand never left Jack's shoulder.

"It was weird, you know," Jack finally said. "It was like… it was like I was both powerful and powerless at the same time. It was like I was the only one with the power to do anything, but because of that, I _had_ to do it."

"It's difficult, isn't it?" the Doctor asked quietly. "To hold the fate of so many in your hands—to determine their entire future in one decision, and to end that of someone else; to weigh the value of one life against another and be forced to choose and say that one is more valuable?"

At his words, Jack felt his heart breaking. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes. And I've no idea how you do it, Doctor."


End file.
